


I'm just a moment (so don't let me pass you by)

by A_Cristate



Category: Stray Kids (Band)
Genre: Demon!Felix, Human!Chan - Freeform, M/M, Slight Angst?, Supernatural Elements, demon!minho, implied death?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-07
Updated: 2020-06-07
Packaged: 2021-03-04 07:28:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,170
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24589849
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/A_Cristate/pseuds/A_Cristate
Summary: All he could remember were those eyes. Those bewitching, golden eyes.
Relationships: Bang Chan/Lee Felix
Comments: 1
Kudos: 38





	I'm just a moment (so don't let me pass you by)

**Author's Note:**

> Title from All Time Low's Outlines, a major inspiration for this story.  
> Might be a little triggering? I'm not sure, if anyone thinks it is, please tell me, I'll add in a warning.

Neon lights swept over the room, drowning it in vibrant hues, coloring in even the most monochrome of souls. The world seemed to be spinning, as if it was dancing along, hand in hand with the people, spreading out and curling back in on itself. The atmosphere was overwhelming in an enchanting way, as if looking away was forbidden, but moving in would mean getting swept off his feet, to never be released again. A single step, a single look, a single touch, all of those made his body shiver with electricity. It was as if he was alive again, rising from his own ashes, the weight of heaven and hell taken off his shoulders. 

It was ridiculous, the way his heart sung, as he spun around on the dance floor. He felt like a teenager again, young and foolish, rushing to experience everything and nothing at all. He knew it wouldn't last, these moments never did. That's what they were, moments. Moments pass by. And tomorrow, this would be done and gone, he would be back in his uncomfortable office chair and the only reminder of the magic he could feel thrumming through his veins right now would be the leftover feeling of euphoria etched into his skin.

But for a few hours, he could afford to forget.

He could feel hands all over, on his arms, his shoulders, his torso. He felt fingers intertwining with his own, puffs of air tickling his neck. He felt bodies everywhere around him, but his ears couldn't hear a word they said to him. His eyes couldn't see them. Not that he wanted to see them, anyway. 

No, he wished nothing more than to focus on the angel just a reach away.

The angel with a golden halo, with bubblegum lips stretched into the brightest grin. His eyes were closed, long lashes resting upon freckle-dusted cheeks, like constellations of small stars across his face.

He looked perfectly pure, clean, untainted by the sins of the world. The angel looked like the peak of nirvana, like standing in the rain after drought, like breathing in during a thunderstorm. He felt like the forbidden fruit, one the man was undeserving to look at. The angel was mesmerizing without even doing anything. 

He had to look away. 

He had to.

And he didn't.

Instead, his breath hitched, air trapped inside of his lungs, mind going from overdrive to a black out as their eyes met.

Suddenly, they were alone. Alone together, in a room full of people. 

The pressure all over his body seemed to disappear, he finally breathed out, in, out again.

He felt bewitched, as if he was under a spell.

Those eyes, like amber, liquid gold that probably ran through his veins. He always thought eyes speak more than anything else does, a door to the soul. And in the eyes of this boy, who was as pure as the first snow, he saw sin. He saw pure sin, greed, the carnal desire as if calling out to him, a siren luring in its prey. And the prey went willingly.

It was another moment he would usually watch from the sidelines. But this time, he would take a chance, taking a step forward.

And the world that seemed to spin around him to the rhythm stopped.

The last thing he saw were those eyes, those beautiful eyes, they were taunting him, full of avarice and more otherworldly pleasures.

He felt lips upon his.

Just another moment, a story-to-be once tomorrow would come.

-

Chan could already feel the tremendous headache on its way as he was waking up.

Right, this is why he didn't drink. But did he even drink? He tried to recall the events of the previous night. He could still see the lights, the purplish hue everywhere, could feel the heat of the club and its people on his skin. But he couldn't remember buying a single drink. 

And what was even more strange, anything that came after stepping onto the dance floor seemed to fade to black. Did he pass out? It wouldn't be the first time.

His body felt heavy, his head was pounding like never before. Yet somewhere deep inside him, there was an underlying sense of peace. It enveloped him like a blanket, warm and soft, soothing every ache he felt. Looking down upon himself, his torso, his legs, Chan had to blink a few times.

Maybe he still felt a bit woozy, for the morning light shining on his skin seemed like liquid gold, cascading down his body, pooling on his sheets.

He already felt better as he stood in the shower, letting the scalding hot water run over him.

On a normal day, Chan wouldn't spend a long time in the shower. It wasn't that he disliked long showers. It was a thing of convenience, simply opting for a quick shower, more time for breakfast and so on before he had to go work.

Today, he couldn't force himself to step out after five minutes. Instead, he took time carefully washing his hair, massaging the tension from his limbs, just standing underneath the stream. Only when his fingertips pruned up did he move from the shower. 

Maybe it was residual heat from the water, but Chan could almost feel a hand print seared around his wrist, a pair on his shoulders, a few more here and there. As if there were greedy hands grabbing all over him, squeezing, burning themselves into his skin.

He shook his head, the thought disappearing in thin air.

-

Chan hurriedly sat down into his chair, rushing to turn on his computer, trying to act as if he didn't come in late.

"You're usually the first one here. Had a long night?" and of course, Minho would notice. The younger man leaned against his desk, crossing his ankles in a sassy manner. His glossy lips stretched into a smirk as he waited for Chan's answer.

"I honestly don't know. Pretty sure I passed out after my first dance." there was no point in lying to Minho, the man would see right through him. 

"Here I thought you spent the night at the hairdresser's. That blonde must've taken ages to do."

_What?_

Chan grabbed his phone out of his pocket, almost dropping it as he saw his reflection.

There was a blonde, almost golden streak in his hair, lining his bangs, down behind his left ear. He was pretty sure it wasn't there when he looked in the mirror in the morning. It definitely wasn't there.

"Yeah..."

What else could he answer? _"I actually don't know how that got there, I don't remember it being there an hour ago."_

"It looks nice thought. It suits you."

Chan just nodded, choosing to look at the numerous files on his desk instead. Minho took that as his cue to leave, casually strutting through the office, a strange smile on his face. Almost... knowing.

Shaking his head, the man tried to focus on the file in front of him. The distractions kept coming though.

Chan daydreamed of eyes, unnerving, golden eyes.

-

"Well someone had a good night."

A crashing sound interrupted the otherwise silent room.

"Oh my god, Minho! Could you at least knock or something?" the ginger-haired man got up from the floor, straightening his chair before sitting back down. 

"Pretty sure you shouldn't be using the g-word here, my friend."

"Go to hell."

Minho smirked.

"Well, Felix, I spy with my little eye, that you had a fun snack yesterday."

The other man frowned, knowing nothing good would come out of this conversation.

"How do you even know about that?"

"I saw you at the club. Using that ethereal form of yours, I get it, you look good and all that, but isn't it a bit risky? Someone might notice you someday. And not in the 'I wanna fuck that pretty boy' way."

"Let's be honest Minho. Even if someone noticed, saw through the glamour... what could they do?" his voice took on a dark, dangerous lilt, a wild look flashing across Felix's face. His golden eyes were glowing with a reddish tint, just the slightest bit feral.

"If you're so sure... now, back to your new toy. You marked him."

Even if Felix wanted to deny that, he couldn't. 

The night before, he was looking for a bit of mortal fun, something a bit different to his usual routine. And even though he didn't plan to sleep with anybody, he still remembered how his body burned with his stare. When they locked eyes as he danced, when they kissed, for the first time, the second, the third, again and again. Club to the man's bed, Felix's lips tingled with the reminder.

He wasn't planning on sleeping with Chan, much less marking him. But when he had the man underneath him, singing tones he supposed only his personal paradise could sing, he couldn't help himself.

Felix didn't need to bite, he simply needed to look, to imagine. Sear his imprint into the man's skin forever, make him feel it, wear it proudly. Paint over his black and white being with Felix's gold.

"Well? Got an explanation?" Minho's voice sounded as if he was scolding a child for breaking a toy. It seemed quite fitting, as Chan would soon be ruined for regular life now.

"He was pretty..."

"Are you kidding me? He was pretty? God, Felix, you're a devil..." the other man threw his head back, letting out an exasperated sigh.

"Wait, let me rephrase that. You literally are the Devil, capital D and that shit. Remember? You aren't supposed to mark pretty human boys."

He remembered very well. He was the Devil, who fell from heaven for his mortal sins, who ruled the underworld, who wasn't supposed to mingle with humans, let alone lay his claim on them. A devil's claim was a bad thing for a human. It was a drop of dye into pure water. A single stain on a white sheet, big and bright, quickly eating away anything that stayed innocent.

His soul was corrupted, touched by the hand of a sinner. From now until the end of eternity, the gates of Heaven were closed off for Chan, no matter how much he pleaded, how much he prayed. 

"Even better, he doesn't remember you. Isn't it kind of ironic for me to be telling you to take responsibility?"

Felix didn't even bother replying. Minho was right. He claimed a man enchanted by his magical charm, marked his whole being as the Devil's property, tainted it forever. And then, he made him forget, like a coward. Fully aware of what he had done, how much he messed up, he chose to let the man deal with it as he ran away.

The real question was, _how to make it right?_

Who was he kidding.

He didn't want to make it _right_.

He wanted _him_.

-

Chan felt strange.

Once again, an urge clawed itself from the depth of his being, the urge to disappear from his mundane life and forget everything, if only for a bit.

Once again, he stood on that same dance floor, those same lights dancing together with the crowds of people all around him.

From the corner of his eye, Chan could see the now golden blonde strand of hair. It got wider since last week. He could feel the hand print on his wrist, could feel fingers sliding down his back even as he stood, leaning against a wall, all alone. He didn't bother looking at himself. His eyes were glazed over with the liquid gold, tainting his vision. It was everywhere.

This time, he felt the stare first. He could feel the eyes digging into his head, searching, calling.

He looked too.

There he stood, the angel. He could almost physically feel the memories coming back. The dancing, the smiles, the kiss, the... everything else. There was something different now though... the angel looked different.

His golden halo wasn't there. Instead, his long locks shimmered in the neon lights. His eyes took on the shade of blood stained gold as he gazed at Chan. He didn't wear the same bright grin as last time. His lips, this time liquorice instead of bubblegum, were pulled into a thin line.

And Chan, for the first time, saw through the veil.

He could see the markings on Felix's skin, the way his skin went black towards his fingertips. He saw the claws, flexing, ready to grab and tear. He could see his horns, proud, tall, gold. Of course they were gold.

Chan tried to take a step back, seeing Felix take one towards him.

It was just another moment. He wished he had let it pass him by last time.

He didn't want the angel anymore.

He didn't like his smile anymore. It was full of teeth, long, sharp, shiny teeth.

The last thing he saw were those eyes. Those awful, golden eyes.

Then, everything went black.


End file.
